


Age of Icons

by Eyrmia



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Age of Rust, Beginnings, Brainwashing, Character Death, Classism, Cybertronian Senate (Transformers), Empurata, Explosions, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Gladiators, Golden Age, Government Conspiracy, Illegal Activities, Lobotomy, Mass Death, Moral Ambiguity, Origin Story, Politics, Pre-Canon, Pre-War, Racism, Revolution, Riots, Sort Of, Terrorism, Torture, Violence, Wreckers, and some bad peeps, by some good peeps, everything is just falling apart okay, functionism, might have some kind of sequel, shadowplay, tags are subject to change, the gang's all here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyrmia/pseuds/Eyrmia
Summary: Cybertronians crave war.It's an idea scholars and philosophers debated for centuries, the theory that the Cybertronian race was born specifically for war –– the Thirteen and their battle against Unicron, the barbaric battles between various war bands in Cybertron's fledgling years, the Quintesson Invasion, and subsequently, the thousands of bots constructed cold for one purpose: war. And what do you do with a planet full of soldiers with no war to fight?But nothing proved that theory right more than the Great War, the culmination of hundreds of years of oppression, silenced outcries, and corruption. Never before had the Cybertronian race seen such devastation as the civil war that razed their home, shattered their people, decimated their spirits, and devolved into not a revolution, but a squabble  between two sides who would rather win than make things right.And in their pride, both sides neglected the true origins of the Great War, the miserable realization that it was no one bot's fault. Everyone had their own part to play in the race towards Cybertron's most crushing conflict to date.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was somewhat inspired by [Echoes of Messatine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6234949/chapters/14286163), written by [MlleMusketeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MlleMusketeer/pseuds/MlleMusketeer).
> 
> This is something of a fix-it fic, I suppose. I felt that the backstory of Orion Pax and Megatronus was greatly oversimplified when Ratchet explained it in Transformers: Prime. I read the books by Alex Milne, and while they are a fantastic read, they seem to focus mostly on Orion. I wanted to write something that covers the aspects of the issue from many different perspectives. The chapters aren't meant to be incredibly long –– roughly 500 words is what I'm aiming for. They're more like snapshots. This fic also works as a kind of exercise for me, to work on connecting the plot through different perspectives.
> 
> There are no significant OCs in this story. Every named character has some kind of basis in canon (TF Wiki is my best friend).
> 
> Every chapter will be coming from the perspective of a character in TFP (except Bumblebee, Smokescreen, the Predacons, and Knock Out, as they weren't born before the war). Some may have more "screen time" than others, simply because their role was larger. The plot from this story has many IDW influences, and I tried to keep things as canon-compliant with the TFP media (including the Covenant of Primus, Alex Milne books, and games) as I possibly could.
> 
> There is no upfront romance, but there are some elements that could be interpreted any way the reader wants to –– friendship or something more.

_Our Golden Age began the eve of the Quintesson War, when the alien forces retreated from the surface of our planet. Sentinel Zeta became Sentinel Zeta Prime, official leader of Cybertron. He was quick to put in place his Senate of Thirteen, with himself at the head. I, as one of the senators, hold the title, "Grand Archivist."_

_We finished constructing the Spacebridges that the Quintessons began, and spread to the cosmos. Our colonies on planets like Junkion, Velocitron, and Archon thrived. Our artistic and scientific societies flourished. We prospered._

_But it seems we lived not in a golden, but a gilded age. Those bots artificially manufactured by the Quintessons –– and later by our own engineers to aid in the war effort –– are seen by too many as less than Cybertronian. Forged bots claim the constructed are stealing their jobs, their energon –– and the constructed claim they are treated as second-class citizens._

_The rust epidemic didn’t help. Our hands tied, we were forced to destroy the very things that brought our civilization affluence: the Spacebridges. But that didn’t do much good. On the contrary, I believe it only made things worse. Riots in the streets of the eastern states, rumors of pit fighting –– Primus, I’d thought those days were behind us –– police violence…What is our home coming to?_

_As of yesterday, Sentinel Prime has put into law a new order. He calls it the Echelon Act. The people call it a caste system –– a system eerily similar to what the Quintessons attempted to put us through. I worry that Cybertron is heading someplace grim, and I cannot stop it. My brothers have since scattered to the stars. Only I, Alchemist Prime, and_ Thirteen _remain here, with Primus._

_For the first time since meeting Unicron, I am afraid._

_–– Alpha Trion, Covenant of Primus_


	2. Chapter 2

Maccadam’s New Oil House often sat vacant during the day. Today, it was empty save for two. A pair of old friends took up a booth beside the door, each nursing a cube of energon. One, obviously a doctor by his plating, held a stylus in his left hand, optics trained on a datapad before him. The other, with red and blue plating, stared out the window.

“Alpha Trion has been quiet lately,” the red and blue mech said.

“I was under the impression that he’s quiet in general.” The medic wrote something on the datapad, then erased it.

“He is withdrawn, even from me. Even from Doctor Remedy –– I believed they were close.”

“They are. Remedy hasn’t been himself either. Sentinel’s new law really rubbed him the wrong way.”

“Ratchet, you should not call him that.”

The medic looked up, and his yellow optics met the other mech’s blue ones. They presented a challenge.

“His title is Prime. You should use it.”

The yellow optics rolled. “He’s not a true Prime, Orion. Even if he were, I wouldn’t call him one.”

“You’re just saying that because Doctor Remedy does. And he would never have said that during the war.” Orion set his empty cube to the side. “I think it is odd; Doctor Remedy was one of Sentinel Prime’s closest advisors –– and friends. Now, he criticizes every move he makes.”

“Because Sentinel is an excellent general.” Ratchet turned off his datapad. “But he’s just that: a general. He’s not a political leader.” The corner of his mouth turned up, though it was obviously sarcastic. “You know the old saying: ‘Primes weren’t made for peace.’”

Orion made no utterance of agreement or otherwise. Instead, he produced a few shanix from his subspace and placed them on the table. Following suit, Ratchet stood up, leaving some shanix of his own. They exited the bar, leaving it empty of patrons once again.

“Are you returning to the hospital?”

Ratchet nodded. “Remedy’s visiting a friend in Kaon, so today’s reserved for independent study.” He left it at that, though Orion suspected that meant his friend was planning to dissect something later.

“More bookkeeping for you?” Ratchet asked.

“Such is my lot in life.” Orion smiled, a genuine smile, rather than the one he sculpted for observers in the Hall of Records. “Stay safe.”

“You too.”

The words were more of a formality, a remnant from the Quintesson War, when the two of them never knew if they’d see the other again once they parted for a mission. Orion felt Ratchet’s electromagnetic field brush his own for a brief instant, the whispers of their goodbye in its midst. He didn’t often use is EMF; most Iaconians didn’t, as it was considered innapropriate. Ratchet, on the other hand, didn’t mind. He hadn’t been born in Iacon, and as such, didn’t care to observe its customs. It was refreshing, in Orion’s opinion, to not have to worry about societal norms with Ratchet. He could be as open as he liked, without fear of judgement.

Despite their vastly different backgrounds, and by extension, personalities and beliefs, Orion considered Ratchet one of his closest friends. However, he simply couldn’t understand Ratchet’s perspective when it came to Sentinel Prime. The Prime was doing everything in his power to ensure Cybertron’s safety, and success. Some of the actions he’d taken weren’t ideal, certainly, but in those situations, there was no ideal decision. He was doing his best.

Orion knew things would work out. They always had in the past.

But doubt grows best alongside denial.


	3. Chapter 3

Kaon’s bars, in contrast to Iacon, were always full. Whether it was a group of miners, or that week’s gang leader, there were always customers. Most of the bots kept to themselves, but some of the more confident ones leered at the outsiders.

Shockwave clamped his plating down under the gazes of the Kaonians. He was obviously not of their ilk. Despite his initial upbringing in Tarn, he spent most of his days in Iacon, and it showed.

“They can tell you’re nervous. Relax.” A white-plated hand landed on his shoulder. Remedy.

“You’ve been here before.”

“A few times.” Remedy nodded to the far side of the bar, where two gray, armored mechs sat in a booth. “That’s who we’re meeting. Ignore the other patrons –– they’re just trying to intimidate us. They’re not fond of outsiders, especially of the western variety.”

They took their seats, finally. Shockwave sat on the inside, as far from the rest of the bar and their judgemental gazes as he could get.

“It’s good to finally see you, Remedy,” one of the gray mechs said. He had lights on his helm and yellow caution tape on his shoulders. A miner. The bot beside him looked considerably younger, and had obviously been constructed during the Quintesson War. Unlike the older mech, he had a fusion cannon on his right arm. Shockwave eyed it warily. To carry such a weapon in full view was unheard of in Iacon.

“You too, Terminus.” Remedy smiled, then gestured to his companion. “I’d like to introduce you to Shockwave.”

“The senator.” The younger mech sneered. Shockwave narrowed his optics. Remedy was a senator too. Did the distrust extend to him as well?

“Correct, Megatronus,” Remedy said, ignoring the snide tone the mech had used. “Shockwave is the Senate’s Minister of Science.” He then nodded to Terminus. “Shockwave, this is Terminus, an old friend of mine. He and I were part of Prime’s elite team during the war.”

Shockwave tilted his head. “And now you’re a miner?” The other members of Prime’s elite team: Ultra Magnus, Ariel, Remedy, and Chromia, had all ended up somewhere…comfortable. The majority of them had become senators, in fact.

“That’s right.” Terminus shook his head, sighing. “You give everything you got, and what do you get in return? A life of falling rocks and noxious fumes, barely making enough to buy yourself daily rations.”

“Terminus also trains the Kaon Pit fighters,” Remedy added, lowering his voice. “Megatronus is one of his students.”

Megatronus nodded, optics softening slightly. Shockwave took it as a sign that the mech was warming to him. He glanced at his mentor, before saying, “In the press conference, Proteus said that the Echelon Act is temporary.”

That was new. Shockwave hadn’t watched the conference. He’d been working, of course. Remedy seemed just as confused.

“Temporary?” the doctor asked, voice deepening –– in anger or bewilderment, Shockwave couldn’t tell. Possibly both.

“He said that it was just to organize…well, everything, until the whole rust plague issue blows over, and to ease tensions between the forged and the constructed. As soon as that’s over, we’ll be allowed to return to what we were doing before.”

They sat in silence. Megatronus’ blue optics darted between the senators. Terminus stared coolly at Remedy, resignation resting in the lines on his face.

“He lied through his denta, didn’t he?” the older miner finally said, voice flat. Remedy met Terminus’ optics, the two of them having some kind of silent conversation. The air between them became charged as their EM fields crackled. Anger radiated off of them both, but seemingly not directed at each other. Finally, Remedy looked away, face carefully neutral.

“It was.”

Shockwave grabbed Remedy’s arm, panic making his optics flare. “We’re sworn to secrecy!” If Senator Soundwave was listening in, as he always seemed to be, there was no telling what could get back to Sentinel Prime.

The doctor ignored him. By the sound of it, he’d divulged confidential information to Terminus before. “Sentinel made it clear during our last meeting that the Echelon Act is here to stay.”

Megatronus’ face fell, and he leaned back in the seat. “That’s not fair. Why should I be a miner just because I was built with industrial hardware? I’m not the one who made that decision.”

“Sentinel doesn’t care,” Shockwave said, removing his hand from Remedy’s arm. Obviously, Remedy wasn’t worried about secrecy. Shockwave was still concerned about the potential of Soundwave listening to their conversation, but if they were caught, at least they’d all go down together. He was already implicated, anyway. “He was forged long before cold construction was even invented. It’s not your fault, but he sees you as less than us –– less than a forged mech.”

“But what about Terminus? He’s forged!” Megatronus said, raising his voice, and Terminus placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Sentinel doesn’t care about him, either. He doesn’t care about the eastern cities, or the poor, or the weak.” Remedy scoffed. “He’s a general, Megatronus, not a leader of the common people. To him, you’re only valuable if you contribute something to society. In times of war, that means the war-built bots like you and Terminus. In times of peace, that means scientists, politicians, the like,” Remedy added, lip curling. “That doesn’t make it right, though.”

Shockwave tapped his fingers on the table. “Terminus, you mean to say that Cybertron believes the Echelon Act is temporary?”

Terminus nodded.

“Then maybe we should reveal the truth.”

“Wasn’t it you who reminded us of our oath to secrecy?” Remedy countered. “Not that I’m disagreeing with you, but what you’re proposing is extremely dangerous.”

“That’s why we have to be careful. Voice filters, no visual recording. But we  _ must _ get the message out. This isn’t something that we can let Sentinel get away with.”


End file.
